#within the strings of a puppet

[mummer]

really despite All That i love the mercy twow chapter and i LOVE meta stuff especially theatre meta stuff and mummers (hence) like YES finally we’re doing fun metacommentary against a backdrop of blood and horror but we’re in braavos where nothing is real. it’s so hot to me

[dalxhui]

tag dump.

☾ mirror mirror ― ♢ visuals

☾ stories written in time ― ♢ para / script / interactions

☾ written within the stars ― ♢ headcanons

☾ ink & ashes ― ♢ journal / poems / thoughts

☾ drafted chapters ― ♢ potential plots  

☾ puppeteer ― ♢ mun & ooc notice

☾ tugged by the string of fate ― ♢ important muse updates, written in ooc

[hanniejji]

silence

[ wanderer!scaramouche x okami!reader ]

summary: completely lost after his defeat in becoming a god, he searches not only for a new purpose but also for a certain someone who brought him comfort greater than his own kin would.

notes: aka scara is a baby and comes crying to you because he's a sore loser /jk | m.list

words: 2933 | warnings: it's scaramouche /jk there's nothing bad here just comfort and shit, also the pacing is kinda shitty cause i wrote this at work lmao

you have always loved the silence.

the eerie silence that enveloped a battlefield after a fight, where one side mourns for the dead and the other celebrates their victory far away. the tranquil noises of nature in the forest, your abode—if you focus enough, you can hear the white noise of the wind rushing above the sky, the flight of birds, the footsteps of every animal within your vicinity, and the gushing waterfall hitting the surface below. the muted thoughts of people, all with voices to scream yet defiance against authority means death, so they choose to silence their cries for help. the stillness of the night, where you can faintly hear the howls of your kin from afar, reminding you of past battles won and lost.

but somewhere in the distant memory of your past, you miss the complaints of a certain boy whose voice never seemed to shut the hell up.

your words, not mine.

he used to be so loud, crying even whilst he slept. whining and complaining about how you imprisoned him in this otherworldly forest of yours, yet he shuts his mouth after being reminded of his reality of being a casualty to those he comes across.

a puppet gone mad, out of its master's control, strings tangled.

"you're not here to be tamed, brat."

"then why are you keeping me here?" kunikuzushi glares at you from the other side of the stone table, a hand gripping the knife you casually gave him so he could practice on his own.

you always seemed to be his dummy target though. not that he could hurt you in the slightest, the gap between your capabilities is that of the height you need to reach celestia. it's quite an exaggeration, but far from a lie.

"so you don't go around accidentally causing more unintentional problems. learn how to use your brain or something, you have one for a reason," was always your answer to his repeated question, laughing at the way his face contorted to apprehension. "i don't have the patience to shape you into whatever humane person or puppet your creator wants you to be. so i'm doing you a favor by letting you be whatever the fuck you want to be. kill whoever you want, destroy whatever you want, go pour your anger as much as you want. it matters little to me."

"doesn't that contradict your past obligation as inazuma's former defender?"

"exactly what the title says," you shrug your shoulders, throwing your hands up without energy, "that is in the past. inazuma's concerns do not matter to me now that my god is gone."

placing your chin on your palm, you send him a knowing smirk, a sight he realizes that he does not like, "you can destroy this nation all you want and i wouldn't mind one bit. it would be interesting to see you as a god and not just a little brat."

he would always grow silent after the nth time you had this conversation, pondering, imagining the imagery of what you just said. it's almost as if he's in a trance.

the silence of someone having an inner conflict in more ways than one, is something that you would say is better than the silence when someone is mourning.

because this kind of silence is always followed by chaos.

"oh? where do you think you're going, little doll?"

"stop calling me that," he hissed, turning his head to glare at you.

for some reason, the change in his personality these past few months was refreshing, so unlike the whiny little brat who used to cower away from you. the same brat who's always frustrated at himself.

but at the same time, it's such a shame that he didn't change his ways. still reckless and careless.

this recklessness will kill him someday, you thought.

"well, answer the question."

he falters, taking a few steps away from you when you tilt your head, urging—demanding for his answer. he still couldn't look you straight in the eyes when you become like this—when your voice goes a little deep, eyes staring him down and the authority in the way you poised yourself.

"to the fatui. i'm not going to let myself rot in here."

"you're a puppet, you're not supposed to rot."

he scoffs at the comment, vile irritation building up his throat at the way you remained unbothered, almost uncaring, indifferent and as if this means little to you. you act more like a puppet than he does, he realizes.

he hates that about you.

it's ironic. he's the same way, more venomous through his words—but with you, it's like talking to a stone cold wall.

"i'm leaving to snezhnaya."

"hm," you turn your head to the vast forest, shrouded with tall trees and thick fog—wait, when did the fog get so thick? kunikuzushi was so sure he could still see far and beyond the first few layers of those trees, why did the forest suddenly seem so eerie and… predatory.

"you can leave."

"huh?" he stares at you in disbelief, with a hint of sadness.

are you… really going to let him go that easily?

for some reason, despite the freedom given to him, he wanted you to stop him.

"find the exit yourself," your trademark grin appeared on your face, challenging and daring him to do so. it's infuriating, makes him feel like you're looking down at him and his capabilities. "if you successfully get out of this forest, then i trust that you can handle the world outside and beyond this nation."

i take back my words, he scoffs, i don't need their permission to leave. they can't stop me.

"i don't need another petty test of yours, i can take care of my own," he sharply turns away and into the direction he swore was the exit just a moment ago.

"oh, trust me, doll," your giggles echoed through the forest, ringing in his ears for the last time, way too close than from where you just stood a moment ago.

"the forest is a cruel place to get lost in."

and since then, your abode returned to the way it was.

placid, motionless, and isolated. just like how it should be.

yet you look forward to the day that he comes back crying—you stifle a laugh at how pitiful he would look—scrunched nose and furrowed eyebrows, grumbling curses to the world as he slumps down on the ground, hissing at you as you tease him for being a baby before he falls asleep on the sprawled blanket you have in the living room of your cabin. your spirit watches over his sleep, dispersing his nightmares before it can even take root in his mind and blanketing him with your tail despite his inability to feel the change in the temperature.

no, he's too deep in his sleep to ever catch you doing such things.

some days, you'd sense a feeling of fear crawling inside the back of your head. it takes a form of visions and voices. it would whisper using the boy's voice, show images using his face, speak in a way he does. it's times like this that you take pride in your strength. you know better than to crumble against fear and its illusions. such emotions are not strong enough to push through the height of your defenses that were built from piles upon piles of lost loved ones.

yet your heart clenches at the thought of this boy, robbed of the opportunity to grow properly, succumbing to the demons of this world.

it's a shame that even you can't be the person to guide him, for you are the same as he.

you can only hope that he finds himself in his journey.

"ah, it seems like it's that time of the year once again."

you stretch your limbs with a pur-like groan, your tail swinging in anticipation behind you. now that the weariness from sleep had faded, your sharp eyes admire the red and orange colors blending within the forest, the sound of leaves crunching beneath your feet every step you take music to your ears and the cold breeze wafting in the air.

the season of fall always brings out the playful side of your soul.

your attentiveness is sharper than usual, eyes turning to every little bit of movement in your surroundings despite knowing that no threat can occur in your abode. you carved its landscape with your very own hand, grew each and every tree rooted on the ground, wrote protective spells into every tree bark to form your very own barrier, opened ponds and breathed life into its very ground through the leylines. it's your safe haven, nothing can disturb your peace and it is a part of you to an extent.

that's way, when a familiar presence stepped inside your abode with no struggles whatsoever, your ears perked up and tail sways in anticipation.

fall is indeed a season for farewells and reunions.

"you're back quite earlier than expected, did the world outside the forest scare you?" you needn't look to know that he's standing right at the entrance of your favorite clearing, your figure sat near the pond with your feet dipped into the clear water.

"you're exaggerating," he grumbles, footsteps getting louder and closer until he's close enough, stopping just next to you.

"most certainly not," you hummed softly, tilting your head up to look at him after a few hundred years of not seeing him. your ears twitched.

instantly, you know something is different about him.

"you've changed."

"hmp, perhaps," he scoffs loudly, taking a seat beside you in a criss-cross position, slouching a little bit. he's barely looking at you, but that's not something new.

the way you imagined he would years ago.

"you're still grumpy though, might want to change that."

"you're still insufferable. i shouldn't have come back."

"yet you're here. i'm surprised you were able to enter without a problem. i was hoping the forest devoured you when you left. turns out you were able to get out, a shame," you sigh, "i should check on my barriers soon."

"you—" he hisses—the same way you adored, like an angry kitten—turning his head to glare at you, forehead scrunched in irritation, "so you don't even know if anyone gets caught in your shithole? did you assume i just up and died right before i got out?"

he can feel something warm in his chest at the way you laughed freely.

he hasn't heard that sound for a long time.

"you're alive though," he groaned at the familiar sly smile on your face. "besides, i wouldn't have let you go if i didn't know that you'd make it out alive."

"you would in a heartbeat."

"hm, if it were someone else, perhaps. but not you," you turn your head back to the pond, a contented smile on your face, voice unintentionally turning soft, "not my brat."

those words were the key to kunikuzushi's vulnerable state.

the silence that followed after your words was… unnerving, for some reason.

yet you felt as if you should give him the time he needs to gather himself, to give him a choice to talk or to keep things to himself. it stayed like that for a while, tuning into the sound of birds above and humming to make him more comfortable—or was it for your own comfort that you tried to fill in the silence? the feeling of being unsure is so… uneasy.

why am i doing so much for his comfort?

just when you're about to speak to change the topic, he opens his mouth—and he speaks.

piles and piles of words upon words, like a scroll being unravel down the flight of stairs to the narukami shrine. his voice, clumsy and blurry words as it may be, sings to you tragedies in a kabuki performance. he opens his doors to you and only you, almost breaking down on the spot if it wasn't for his ridiculous pride—you surmise that you may have influenced him in that case. it plays a theatrical scene that takes eternity to finish dialogues upon dialogues.

he's a puppet whose strings are cut short, but he picks himself up, tangling the fragile strings in the process.

and you are his only audience.

you're his standing ovation when no one bothers to stop and see him for what he is.

perhaps, you are more suited to be sat beside him, joining in his play instead of just a witness—because you are more than just some random bystander who happens to pass by a puppet show.

it took him a while to finish his story. just like any kabuki, time is crucial in the production, and kunikuzushi is a person who barely had the time to see the world in its purest form. yet time is also what brought him his demise.

the gods did not give him enough time to feel and learn.

when he finishes, the sun has already hid itself behind the ocean of trees and the sky is blanketed by a starry void.

a false sky, he said in one of his stories.

somehow, kunikuzushi's head ended up on your lap—he dares not to bring attention to this fact, he already feels embarrassed as it is.

"how did it felt?"

he stares at you with a grain of salt.

"to what? to almost die? quite the experience, i didn't enjoy falling head first though. would you like to try?"

"no, dumbass," he hisses when your finger flicks against his forehead. before he could even cover the assaulted area, you swat his hand away to replace it with yours. an uncharacteristic gentle touch on his skin, a caress. he resists the urge to melt towards your hand. "how did it feel like to almost have something within your reach but realize it won't do you any better? to learn how to decide for yourself, for the better, after experiencing bitter defeat?"

he purses his lips, turning away from your direction to stare at the pond reflecting the dark sky.

your hand slips across his forehead to his hair, gently caressing the familiar stresses—familiar stresses that reminded you so much of a former dear friend that you lost long ago. you didn't expect him to answer your question yet, to push forward for an answer would be adding salt to an open wound.

and the last thing you want to do is give him a reason to pull away.

"you know, if i was ei, i would have chosen you to rule with me."

"stop saying things to make me feel better, that's not like you," he scoffs—unbeknownst to the way his cheeks turn a little warmer.

such a human feature to have.

"i would love to see you be the god you wanted to be," you continued to mutter with a soft smile, brushing your fingers through his hair.

"stop it."

"i would watch you build yourself higher and have greater goals as a god."

"what is wrong with you!?" he quickly pushes himself off of you, whipping his head to look at you with a bewildered face. "are you out of your mind!?" he glares at the way your smile turns sly.

"i would have chosen you, someone with no human heart yet able to feel what it's like to be human," your hand pats his head playfully, snickering when he swats it away roughly.

"you," growling, he turns away from your direction.

"but alas, i'm not patient enough to baby you or anyone else," you shake your head shamefully, shrugging your shoulders. "go do whatever the fuck you want yourself, learn shit for yourself. but that does not mean you can do it alone, dumbass."

"why are you talking like this?" he mumbles, but you can see the way his shoulder trembled in the slightest, no doubt nibbling on his bottom lip to stop himself from something as 'pitiful' as crying. "shut up, i came here to rest, not to listen to your nonsense musings. i had enough of that already."

"well then," you reach out to his shoulder, gently directing him back on your lap. he faces you this time, eyes clenched tight to avoid looking at you, his only pillar in this world. he feels too light headed, whether if it's from your words or the feeling of finally resting after so many years of suffering, he's not too sure. he'd deny the former with everything he has though. but he cannot deny that he feels safe in your haven, here in the comfort of your arms.

"rest, you can think of the next step after you get some shuteye, don't make me knock you out myself."

he clicked his tongue, before it became quiet again.

this time, it's a comfortable silence. nothing like the tension from the first time you met him, nothing like the few times he spent quietly sobbing on your shoulder every time he awakes from a nightmare—nothing like the eerie quietude in the middle of the eye of the storm, waiting for the real disaster to come surging. soon, the boy falls asleep to the warm and loving touch on his head.

in the silence, you whisper words that you could not tell him.

"i would've gone through celestia and the abyss to give you a heart."

you, despite claiming that you will not baby him, held him in a way a parent would towards their child. with gentle hands and feathery touches, and a heart that you would give him if you could.

taglist: crossed out names mens i can't tag you oof

@thedianaclark @blockswon @thenyxsky @crazypriestess @someone-with-wild-imagination @koi-chairowo @shizunxie @smirpsmirp @brookeisqweer @mariataliya @saoiirsee @atsuki-mitsuri @camzpetite @fandangotales @genshinfinatic @chimsblogg @nette-yang @vienettacream @notyuki @shiragi2 @atsukawolfcat @frzenhans @kkazuyass @tartarsaucechi1de @nunontherun @a-simp-with-daddyissues @thetruepair

[ramblinseahorsey]

Me when yet another live action drama is only sad for sadness sake, pulls random stuff out of nowhere not even trying to pretend they're not making everything up as they go, and makes the characters 1 dimensional, but the costuming in the waltz scene is to die for, the camara work fully immerses you, the violins going ape in the score when THAT character comes running toward our hero legit sends your heart a flutter, and that one chick's acting are breathtaking, not just in that one scene she cries a lot, but in every sigh, every wry smile, every sentence spoken with just her eyes, giving us a visual symphony in a movie that was honestly probably though up by a computer of a bored billionaire, all of this talent making even ME be able to last the whole movie because even if the higher ups didn't try, didn't care, dangit, someone did!!! And I love them! And I hope and pray they get the chance to all unionize and get treated better and get appreciated!!!

And when my teeny attention span, exhausted from actually somewhat concentrating on something bleh for over an hour, can be convinced by a youtuber to spend ANOTHER hour on the topic of this media?? With editing skills and jokes that make a thousand advertising companies and comedians cry in jealousy? That I remember for days after, despite being a video about the newest dramady, blorbo mceebeysans goes to California to out love triangle his ex smippy doosia the third?? In 3d??? People actually loving what they do is a powerful thing man. Cringe didn't die of natural causes, we best it to death with our fists.

my two favorite artistic creations on this earth are incredibly well written reviews for bad movies and tv shows, and the painstakingly crafted costumes, makeup, production design, score, and sound work on bad movies and tv. the overall piece of media is bad, but someone was able to make something beautiful despite that. film critics flex their best prose describing how bad something flopped. the production teams behind stupid and bad projects might even know things are stupid and bad but work their ass off on their portion, knowing people might not even care bc the direction, writing, or acting was bad. i hope all those people know i love and support and see you. when i walk out of the theater or finish a show i thought was fucking garbage, know that i still appreciated your meticulous work. i am rooting for your shit to be recognized somewhere better. i saw the detail you put into it and my disappointment lies in all that was wasted. the film critic writing the best takedown of all time? i know you've been waiting for this and i see you. i love the good art that grows in the cracks of the sidewalk of bad art.

[ddarker-dreams]

Give and Take.

Yan Scaramouche x Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, obsessive thinking, Scara in his Kabukimono phase being creepy.  Word count: 1.1k.

You have such a peaceful expression when you sleep.

It’s always instilled such awe in the beautiful puppet. The world bound to your unconsciousness must be pleasant if you have so little trouble exploring it each night. He wishes he could enter so he may see it for himself, the colors and shapes your mind paints. He’s long since given up on finding solace in his own dreams. His dreams are what brought him ruin. It’s curious, then, that his creator would curse him with eternal slumber when he proved himself too weak for his original purpose.

Ever since then, he’s felt on edge at night. How could he rest without a care when the possibility exists you’d be gone when he awoke?

No, it’s too risky, he decided. It’d be ideal if he could always keep you awake, and he tried, to the best of his abilities. When the moon hung in the sky he’d pester you with all sorts of minor details. He’d purposefully misplace the comb you got him when you started getting ready for bed so you’d help him search, or become uncharacteristically talkative if it meant you’d spare him a few more minutes. Unfortunately, mortals do need their sleep, hence why he no longer relied on this plan.

Reflecting on it, he’s ultimately glad he changed his methods. Now he’s treated to the unique privilege of watching over you while you sleep. At night, there’s no one who can barge in and interrupt your time together, no Tatasurana denizens showing up unannounced to steal your attention away. It’s just the two of you, as it should be. He works hard to ensure you get something out of this arrangement too — it wouldn’t be fair if he was the only one who benefited.

If you readjust and your blanket slips down, he’ll lift it back into place. Should the room grow too balmy, he’ll crack open the door. Then, if an unexpected breeze displeases you, he’ll dutifully pad his way back over and close it. He sits eagerly by your side in anticipation of meeting any of your unspoken needs. You’ve done so much for him, he figures it’s the least he could do.

Slowly yet surely, he’s come to forgive the night for what it took from him. So long as it continues to grant him this time with you, he’ll push away the thoughts he once had of plucking the moon from the sky.

His hands curl into fists by his side. He counts the times your chest rises and falls — fifteen — the mindless task successful in grounding him. Still, he can’t help the tempest that brews within. How much more could he give you if he were truly divine? Instead of flowers pulled clumsily at the roots, still covered in dirt and wilted by the time they left his hand and entered yours, he could’ve given you the world. Laid it at your feet and asked what you might want next. The sun? The stars? He’d string them together and wrap them around your neck if you so much as batted your lashes at him.

Divinity slipped through his fingers, washed away by his foolish tears.

If he were a god… would he have had the courage to hold you by now? Take your hand in his? Learn if your lips would feel as soft against his as he hoped? Instead, he’s reduced to this unsightly state, following you around like a lost duckling on a day-to-day basis. You smiled at him, doted on him, but that wasn’t enough. Something was missing. He had been contenting himself on an appetizer without any hope of the entrée ever arriving. His hunger was growing faster than you could satiate it.

Lithe fingers caress the side of your face. He’s careful — he knows how much pressure he can apply without waking you up — the feeling of your skin’s warmth causing artificial heat to flood his cheeks. He draws the characters of that name the others refer to him as, Kabukimono, saying a silent prayer that it’d remain eternally embedded. Next, his wandering finger finds itself above your parted lips. He hesitates. Holds his breath and stays still as a corpse. If he had a heart, he thinks, it’d surely be pounding loud enough to wake you.

He presses down. Runs the pad of his finger over your lower lip, left to right, then right to left. It’s a slow, meticulous process, drawn out for his gratification. It is soft. He knew it would be. His delight almost gives him away, he leans down without thinking, his body shaking like a leaf in the wind. Trembling lips hover longingly above yours. Indigo locks splay across your face and he can’t tear himself away from the sight. He wants to dye you with his color, to seep so deep into you that he could never be washed away. Whether it be this shade of blue, or the red pigment you wore around your eyes after saying you liked his, any color born from him was meant for you.

Is it wrong of him to want to stain you? Surely, it can’t be, not when the mere thought feels so good.

You shift the slightest bit in your sleep. He can’t think to feel occupied with terror, not when your movements inadvertently cause your lips to brush against each other. It’s chaste, it’s brief, a pressure so light he wonders if he truly felt it at all. He doesn’t allow himself to dwell on it, not now, when he’s in danger of being found out. You’re mumbling under your breath and moving too much to be in a deep sleep. 

He walks across the tatami floor with extreme caution, avoiding any areas that might creak and give him away. It’s an agonizing few seconds that can’t pass by fast enough. He slips out of your room just in time, closing the sliding door as you rise, blinking the sleep from your eyes and stretching. He returns to the guest room you set aside specifically for his usage, his legs finally giving out beneath him. One would think he had just finished running a marathon if they saw how heavily he’s breathing. 

For a few moments, he lies motionless on the floor, only moving to press his fingers against his tingling lips. Enchanted, almost disbelieving. 

You kissed him. You were his first kiss. Was he yours too?

He closes his eyes and smiles, giddiness invading his body and running rampant like a virus.

It might be greedy to ask for more than he’s already received, but still... 

... He can’t help looking forward to what other firsts each night following this one may bring. 

[luveline]

Shy reader asking Eddie if he could teach her to play his guitar- but she’s nervous because she knows that Eddie never lets anyone touch his guitar. 🎸

eddie trusting you implicitly <3 shy!fem!reader | 0.6k words

“Does she have a name?” you ask.

You sit thigh to thigh with Eddie, your backs to his bed, his guitar cradled in his lap.

Eddie squints at you, quizzical. “What?”

You try not to totally implode, coughing weakly before repeating yourself, “Does- does she have a name?”

“You’ve heard me say it.” His perplexed frown softens and he tilts his head toward you, conspiring. “Her name’s Sweetheart.”

The room feels suddenly hot, like the sun has invaded his blackout curtains and swallowed you whole.

He measures your expression. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he says softly, fighting a bemused smile.

“I guess it’s obvious.”

He hums like he’s deliberating. “Nah, I’m in the habit, right? Always calling pretty things sweetheart.” He knows it’s corny as he says it, and it makes it all the more charming.

You know how precious Sweetheart is to him. The first time you’d come over, shy, nervous out of your mind, your knees physically knocking, you’d reached out to touch her. Eddie had made a loud and alarmed sound, though he’d been twice as apologetic as you had.

“I’m sorry, just… she’s sacred,” he’d said.

That was a while ago now. You’ve still yet to touch her, but you watch his fingers skip over her strings, left hand tight against the neck and you want to know how it feels.

“D‘you think you’d teach me one day?” you ask tentatively.

“Guitar?”

“Yeah,” you say, sounding as confident as you feel. Not very.

Eddie draws his gaze from Sweetheart to you, head lolled, his hair tickling your naked shoulder. “Sure I would. Here, hands out.”

Your heart is a hummingbird. You inhale weirdly and hold out your hands, surprised speechless when he deposits his guitar into your grips with little more than a whisper. “Easy,” he says.

“Eddie-“

“It’s not that hard. Like, it’s hours of repetition, but that’s the fun part.”

“Eddie,” you try again.

Eddie wraps his arm around your back and moves your hands into the right places.

“Eddie.”

“What, baby?”

“What are you doing?”

He huffs. “This isn’t a move, don’t worry.” His breath fans hot over your cheek and neck. “Fingers up here. You want a pick?”

You let him guide you through the most simple of simple steps, the very beginnings of learning to play. The entire time you're rigid as a statue, and after a while he can’t ignore it.

“Do me a favour, would you? Relax. There’s no skin in the game here. You’re actually doing really well.”

You know he’s lying but it’s not the point. “It’s not that,” you admit.

He grins, his lips ghosting your temple when he asks, a hair's width from salacious, “You’re not still scared of me, are you?”

Your skin itches with heat. “You’re letting me touch your guitar,” you rush to say. Anything to move his attention from his current teasing.

The suggestive tone of his voice is gone, occluded by pure affection. “Yeah, I am.”

A silent conversation. His eyes lock on to yours. He smiles. Boyish, eyes big and brown and his smile a twin of yours — sticky fond. It’s over as quick as it starts. Eddie smirks to himself and you pretend not to notice as he takes your wrist and pulls it up. “Let’s try again.”

“I might be totally hopeless.”

“No way. Master of Puppets within the year, sweetheart.” It’s pretty clear who he’s talking to.

[obeetlebeetle]

brennan's choice to bring the authors into neverafter is an interesting move -- on a basic, storytelling level, it adds another dimension to the cosmic horror elements already in place, which is useful primarily because brennan likes cosmic horror and tends to rely on it, so we have a lot of basis for comparison going forward. on another level, and one that i find more fruitful largely because it brings something very new and sharp to the story, is that we now have textual acknowledgement that these tales were recorded or written with authorial intent. we've yet to see if brennan will be invoking basile, perrault, the grimms, etc., but they are present in the text now and can be considered as much a part of the neverafter story as the characters themselves. all that said, i want to start thinking about what that authorial intent was, and how it has developed in our retelling.

much of the horror in neverafter is centered on pinocchio -- he is our most direct link to the stepmother, an entity that consumes other characters (notably, her own children and red's grandmother, and presumably snow white's stepmother) in order to achieve the same power as the authors. so we can demonstrate a link between authorial intent and parental authority, and we can assume that neverafter is interested in the intersections between parent and author as roles occupied in order to control characters or stories and their eventual outcome.

as a character, pinocchio is pinocchio, but acting on an archetypal level he is also the child: his original tale was inspired by and modeled after the "jack" tales, after all. there are two primary roles that the child can inhabit in fairy tales. the good child is rewarded, and the bad child is punished. as a character, pinocchio confuses these roles, and we can see why -- the original intent of his tale was not to reward him, and he was never supposed to become "good" and therefore "real." he was meant to die as a puppet. in nva4, pinocchio dies as a puppet. the dissonance of collodi's tale is recognized in the stepmother's promise to pinocchio, stating that she can make him real when it is impossible for him to be good.

in this, the stepmother takes on the role of both the blue fairy and geppetto in pinocchio's story. but those roles, as written by collodi, were never meant to be gentle -- the parent is not meant to be a source of care, or protection.

brennan is not collodi -- his concerns are less material, less related to the issues of class and poverty and survival present in collodi's tale -- but, consciously or not, he has drawn on the way the original story primes pinocchio to accept violence from parental figures and to understand their anger towards him as a function of a properly told story. in this instance, with the agency of a player behind him, he is able to develop new aims and defy his parental authority -- and we can see that the world of neverafter is unable to function properly when pinocchio cuts his strings and rejects his role as a servant to his father's wellbeing.

so, again, we see the stepmother taking on geppetto's role -- but what about the fairy? what about the fact that our pinocchio was introduced after the end of his tale, and what about the role the fairy has played until now? she was the one that killed him the first time, not the stepmother; she was the orchestrator of his moral adventure and, as neverafter so succinctly put it, the figure in control of whether or not pinocchio is "real."

there has been a clear schism between the fairies and the stepmother in neverafter -- we can see that in the exchange between the stepmother and cinderella's fairy godmother, particularly the claim that "magic was never [the stepmother's], magic is [the fairies']!" but what the fairies seem to resent is the stepmother's authorial role, her ability to take stories and reshape them, rather than the character role she plays within the stories themselves.

additionally, there have been a lot of hints that this was a "good" world, and that there is something to return to, if the stories can be restored to their "real" versions. but by breaking down the original pinocchio tale through the lens of what has occurred in the neverafter, we can see that this corrupted version is not really so different -- the macro effect, the authorial intent through first the stepmother and then brennan himself, has clearly changed, but the effect on pinocchio as character and the child as archetype remains.

i take the introduction of the authors into the tale and the link drawn between them and the stepmother to be our first significant sign that things will not be able to return to the happily ever after -- our first real critique of the conditions of thought created and reinforced within fairy tales, and hopefully, a sign that brennan is questioning not the optimism of the fairy tale but the goals fairy tales set out to achieve.

[soulofapatrick]

You Won’t Leave? - Joel Miller x reader

Summary: Y/N has had a fever the last few days but you’re too stubborn to let Joel or Ellie know because you don’t want Joel to leave as it brings up past abandonments

Words: 1.2k

Warnings: fainting; watching someone kill themselves due to being infected

Y/N’s POV

My head pounds with every step, nose feeling clogged and body aching. I’m sick. Like flu sick but that can’t stop us from getting Ellie to the fireflies so I’ve just been sucking up and dealing with it, keeping an eye out for any medication wherever we go. The pack on my back felt heavier than ever and it was causing me to fall behind from the pair, Ellie asking Joel as many questions as she can while Joel just grunts or replies with “pass” but it never deters Ellie. 

The weather was getting colder with each passing day which doesn’t help my flu situation on top of the hours Joel wants to walk. He’s always so stoic and uptight, walking with purpose and gun within arms reach if we were to stumble upon any infected. My own gun is in my pack at the moment as I don’t think it’d be wise me shooting with the way Joel and Ellie seem to sometimes multiply in front of me. 

It’s been manageable until today, I woke with almost no vision which meant I had to pretend to still be asleep for another half an hour before the stars decided to stop spinning around me. Even then all my movements were slow but Joel or Ellie didn’t seem to notice, probably thinking I was just still waking up and I just let them believe that. I still had the thermos of coffee Joel handed to me, it’s currently gripped tight in my shaky hands, as my body feels so hot and clammy and I’m sweating despite the cold air. It’s taking everything for me to not strip all my warm layers off as it might be instant relief it’ll just make me iller and I’ll be fine once I break the fever which I should do today. 

I manage to struggle forwards for another hour before I have to stop and take a sip of my coffee, hoping the caffeine will help me continue on but when I lower the thermos I realise there are four of Joel and Ellie talking to each other as they wait for me. I open my mouth to speak but nothing happens as I suddenly feel like I’m walking on air, the multitudes of my companions going fuzzy, “Joel.” 

------

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Elliott, my older brother, has his sleeve rolled up to reveal the distinct bite mark adorning his pale skin, he’s got tears in his amber eyes and his bottom lip is wobbling as he speaks, “It’s up to you to keep them safe now.”

“What?” My own tears burn behind me eyes as I look up at the person who had become my hero along with my older brother, “I’m ten.” 

He’s crouching so he’s eye level and pulls me into a hug, I can feel the slight shaking in his hands beginning already against my back, “I know it’s not fair but I don’t… I can’t stay or I’ll hurt you.” 

The pain in his voice forces an ache in my chest as he lets me go, gripping his sleeve like a lifeline as he’s right: it’s not fucking fair. I’m ten! I should be running around and playing house or football with my friends instead of watching my fifteen year old brother yank himself out of my grip and turn away from me to grab his gun or have to watch over my 2 year old younger brother. 

Elliott stays facing away from me, across the room now and before I can even move my shaking legs towards him theres an ear splitting pop and Elliott just crumples like a puppet with their strings cut. I’m splattered in wet matter and my heart is pounding, I can’t move or blink as I watch his face drain from it’s normal colour to a grey one right in front of me. I begin to wipe my hands at the mess on me, wanting to get it all off me as my chest tightens and I feel like I’m going throw up. 

--------

“Y/N!” Joel’s panicked gruff voice drags me back to the land of the living, my head still pounding and my body still aching but my cheeks are now wet. I groan in pain, bringing a hand to my cheeks to realise I’m crying. I’ve been crying while passed out… what the fuck happened?

“Oh thank god,” Ellie’s grabbing my other hand tightly in hers and my surrounding start coming back to me. The sky is dark now which means I’ve been out for a while and I’m laying on top of a sleeping bag with a blanket placed over me, “You scared us shitless.” 

“‘M okay.” I go to pull myself up despite the way Joel and Ellie spin above me where they’re both leant over me but Joel’s large hand presses against my chest and pushed me back down. I make a sound of protest, “We’re losing time.” But Joel’s stern look has me closing my mouth. 

“Right, now that you’re awake I’m going to run to the town about six miles from here and were I can buy the medication you need from a smuggler.” He tells me, and all I can hear is that he’s going to leave me. I’m going to be left alone to look after someone younger than me again and it has my chest tightening in the beginning of a panic attack. I’m shaking Ellie’s hand out of mine and gripping Joel’s arm with both, not caring if I seems so pathetic right now. I am not getting left behind again. I’m too young for this. 

Joel’s honey eyes soften as he sees the panic written across my face, sighing softly and he’s shuffling until he’s laying next to me, so close his nose is bumping my cheek. Ellie’s quick to join us, wriggling under my arm and resting her head on my chest. I just hold onto them both as Joel mumbles quiet promises to me, “I’m not leaving. We’re both right here. It’s okay darling.” 

“Please don’t leave me,” I’m crying, “I’m… I’m not ready, I’m too young.” 

“Hey, hey, Y/N,” Joel’s cupping my cheek, forcing me to look at him, his nose cold against mine, “It’s me, I’m right here. It’s Joel and Ellie. Come back to us darling.” 

Joel. Soft and warm lips press against mine that have me letting my eyes slip shut, breathing in everything Joel. The mixture of woodsmoke; burnt coffee and citrus dragging my heartbeat back to an acceptable pace while Ellie’s got her arms wrapped around me, “We’re both here. Get some rest, you need it darling.” 

“You’ll be here when I wake?” 

“Of course we will sweetheart.” 

“Can’t get rid of us that easily.” 

[dialogue-prompts-world]

Villainous Dialogue Prompts

List by @dialogue-prompts-world

"You underestimate my power."

"Fear is such a delightful sensation, isn't it?"

"There's no escaping your fate, my dear."

"I'll enjoy watching your world crumble at my feet."

"Weakness is a luxury I cannot afford."

"Every hero needs a worthy adversary, and that's where I come in."

"Your suffering brings me immense pleasure."

"In the end, everyone will bow before me."

"Hope is a cruel joke, meant to torment the feeble-minded."

"I thrive on chaos, and your pitiful attempts to stop me only fuel it."

"Your precious little morality is nothing but a hindrance."

"To defeat me, you'll have to embrace the darkness within yourself."

"I control the strings of destiny, and you are just a puppet in my grand design."

"There is no redemption for you or anyone else foolish enough to oppose me."

"Once I'm done, there won't be a trace left of your pitiful existence."

"My power knows no bounds. Resistance is futile."

"I relish in the misery of others. It's a beautiful symphony."

"I'm not interested in ruling the world; I want to watch it burn."

"Your loved ones will suffer dearly for your insolence."

"To challenge me is to invite your own destruction."

"The weak are meant to be crushed. It's the law of nature."

"Your hope is nothing but a flickering flame, ready to be extinguished."

"Despair is my most loyal ally, and it will consume you."

"I will dismantle everything you hold dear and leave you with nothing."

"Heroes are just tragic figures awaiting their inevitable downfall."

"There is no good or evil; only power and those too weak to seek it."

"My legacy will be etched in the annals of history, while yours will be forgotten."

"You cling to righteousness like a drowning man clings to a life preserver."

"The world needs me, even if it doesn't realize it yet."

"Remember this moment, for it's the last time you'll ever feel hope."

Feel free to adapt or modify these phrases to suit your villain.

Follow me for more!

[nayatarot777]

karma for your abusive father

• pile one •

cards:

inner child

faceless ghosts and the haunted girl - “ghost people”

athame - boundaries

sundress - “do it for you”

fragmentation

eistibus- “angel of divination”

the first thing that i’m seeing is that his inner child wounds will be deeply triggered - especially any abandonment wounds that he may have. he seems very selfish and he’s leading himself down the path of being completely alone. many people will put up boundaries with him, and he’s going to be haunted by the past. he’s losing connections with people who could’ve been of extreme help and value to him. but his selfishness is what will push everyone away. he’s going to suffer from either mental health issues or maybe even spiritual damage. he could be getting spiritually attacked by someone, and this is deeply effecting his psyche. if you have put any spell-work on him, it’s working. spiritually and mentally, he’s definitely going to be fragmented. i’m seeing major depression. he’s going to have to know that you’re living life completely for yourself without the need for any help from him. any boundaries that you put up with him is going to really bother him too. you could have siblings who also cut him off, and he’s going to be followed by all of his fuck ups and mistakes when having to think about this. he’s plagued with peter pan syndrome. never wanting to actually grow up and mature. being a child in an adult’s body while being a mess of a person at the same time. his karma is mainly you protecting yourself from him as well as many others. this is what’s leading him to his loneliness where he has to sit alone with his thoughts that he can’t run away from. he’s going to have to see you live life in the way that you want to and lead yourself to accepting yourself radically and relentlessly - something that he has never done for himself. which is probably why he tries to tear down anyone’s self esteem that he can. but he’s going to be left as the lonely, broken person that he tried to harm other people into being. he’s not going to feel any type of happiness or fulfilment. at all. aries energy is prevalent here.

if you’d like a private reading, then please check out my pinned post 💖

• pile two •

cards:

home

library - “take control of your own narrative”

atonement

strange valentine - love is strange!

hearth - homecoming

raziel - angel of mysteries

your father is going to really have to pay for whatever he’s done. he’s manipulative. constantly trying to lie and change the narrative of a story. particularly regarding with what happened within the home or your childhood home. he’s going to have to face major judgement for this. there’s a point where he can no longer lie, and i’m seeing him face a lot of backlash from others - maybe extended family. whatever secrets that he’s keeping is coming to the frontline. if your father is weird af in his relationships - like dating much younger women, or teenage girls, then i feel like this is something that is kept quite hidden. there’s a repetition of the home as a topic in his karma. if he’s abusive towards a partner, i’m seeing this partner telling someone about it. perhaps contacting someone like a family member from “back home”. he’s going to be a puppet on a string for someone. this could even be something extreme like blackmail for some of you, from the very same person who he assumed was too naive or easily-controlled to take a stand for themselves. he’s going to be forced to ask for forgiveness. he could literally have to “move back home”. whether that’s with a sister specifically or some other family member, and this would be due to losing his home. i’m getting a really sick message, so feel free to skip the following sentences: your father could be a major creep towards you. he could’ve completely been inappropriate with you in an extremely sick and weird way, and if that applies then i’m extremely sorry that you had to go through this. but this is the secret that will cause him to be exposed for who he truly is. you could be the person who he thought was too under his control to actually expose anything, but i’m seeing that you know exactly how fucking weird he is. he underestimates that. and this doesn’t have to be anything like extreme abuse (although it definitely could be) but perhaps this is about your father being emotionally incestuous and treating you more like a partner (putting weird ass standards and expectations onto you, your body, what you wear, etc) than his own fucking child. he’s getting so much karma from this. overall, everyone will eventually turn his back on him and he’ll really be put into the position of asking for forgiveness. not that this would make any difference.

if you’d like a private reading, then please check out my pinned post 🤍

• pile three •

cards:

wild

red - “forgive”

sacrifice

marie masquerade - “glamour, intrigue, and drama”

samhain - death

uriel - “angel of flame”

your father is going to be plagued by a turbulent life, full of dramatic situations and stresses. and i’m seeing that your father could be a cheater. a womaniser. he acts like he can’t control his actions towards “sexual temptations”. he’s going to be finessed and played by a woman to the highest degree. a young woman who knows how to use her looks to her advantage. he’s going to fall for this like the no-self-control-having, thirsty person that he is. and she’s going to be a dark divine feminine that is coming in to be your father’s karma. this entire situation could lead to your father being exposed as a cheater which would result in the complete destruction and ending of something that he has built - i’m seeing tomatoes so this most likely relates to the family dynamic. there’s definitely going to be a major ending for him that is going to make him feel like his life is in complete rubbles. he’s going to have to sacrifice something too. something that he thought that he was ready and prepared to bear the fruits of, but it’s being ripped away. or someone’s going to sacrifice him and cut him out of their life (for some of you, it’s your mother). he’s not going to receive any forgiveness for whatever he has done. his karma could even be getting his ass beat with this “angel of flame” card. he could have a temper and be so used to being able to snap on people without consequences, but he will try the wrong one - one day. and his ego is going to be humbled greatly. i’m seeing continuous trickery throughout this reading though. i really feel like he’s going to be tricked, played, and exposed for who he actually is. and he’s going to be left in a state of not being able to find value in anything - even if he’s at least financially abundant after this karma hits, it won’t matter. what he decided to prioritise won’t bring him any type of fulfilment or peace, and he’ll be left with what he was chasing after this whole time - but without whatever this is that he seems to regret losing at this point. whatever it is that he felt brought him security that he doesn’t deserve. he’s going to feel like he’s having to navigate something completely foreign to him after this - like he’s a teenager or a young adult figuring out life for the first time, all over again.

if you’d like a private reading, then please check out my pinned post 🧡

[omgahgase]

dinluke one-shot

i wrote this on twitter with no real plot in mind but with the long-felt need to have luke want to reach out to din, only to have din do it instead. it's my first work for dinluke so go easy on me pls 🫡

------------

Luke always tentatively brushes his fingers against Din’s when they walk together in markets because he can never bring himself to fully grasp Din’s hand. He thinks he’s not allowed to, that Din will brush him off after the next touch of fingertips, but he doesn’t.

So, Luke continues, pretending that it’s just accidental when they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder in a crowded area. When like this, Luke will drink up what he can, because he’s greedy when it comes to Din. It’s a trait no Jedi should acknowledge, yet Luke clearly knows it’s deeply rooted in him for he wants Din all the time. He wants to touch him freely, without the armor and gloves. He wants to stare at Din unrestricted, with no visor between them so Luke can get his fill of the handsome man that he saw once and never again after that.

Luke wants to run his fingers through Din’s curls. Kiss his nose. His cheeks. His lips. Feel the hair of his mustache and beard rub against his face where his skin will bloom red under Din’s ministrations, catching the affection between every atom shared in their space. Luke wants so much from Din just within the few months they've been co-training Grogu that it scares him, this all consuming fire that may burn him from the inside out.

Luke wants what he knows he can’t have, so instead of acting on his desires, he feigns ignorance and hopes that Din will push him away—that his hand won’t be there for Luke to fleetingly caress in a half millisecond of contact. So that he can take his rejection in stride.

Din never does push Luke away, though.

Instead, after the fifth or sixth time Luke's knuckles grazes across the back of Din's hand, Din releases a huff that crackles through his modulator, sounding just as tired as he does when Grogu escapes his room and goes frog hunting before dawn.

“If you want to hold my hand, Luke,” Din says, startling something fierce behind Luke’s ribs at being caught, “then you don’t need my permission.”

Luke, ever the level headed Jedi he’s been trained to be, doesn’t sputter a half-assed excuse of forced proximity via milling market patrons. He doesn’t, no matter what Artoo may have caught on holocam. Din sighs, this one a tell Luke is intimately familiar with.

Then, as if it’s the easiest thing in the galaxy for him to do, graced with what feels like decades of practice despite only knowing each other for less than a year’s worth, Din captures Luke’s hand and laces their fingers together. Tight. Unyielding. Locked in.

Din slots their fingers into the spaces between each other’s and tugs, pulling Luke away from the fruit stand he’s so intelligently frozen in front of. With his mouth open, no less. Artoo thrills, amused, and says something about sending that photo to Leia.

Luke ignores him because it’s easy to let his mind go blank and be weightlessly pulled through the crowd, following Din like a puppet on a string. What he can’t ignore is the heat between their palms, warming Luke’s flesh hand to the bone. The heat travels up his arm, his chest, his neck. Until it feels like a magma explosion that rivals Mustafar breaks the surface of his skin and spills across his face, heating his cheeks to a scorching degree.

‘Din’s holding my hand,’ Luke thinks, his inner voice so doped up on Din’s touch that he sounds stupid even to himself. ‘Din’s actually holding my hand. He wants to hold my hand.’

“I’ve wanted to for a while now.”

Oh.

Oh Force. Luke hopes Artoo didn’t catch his blunder or else Han is going to get wind of this too and Luke is not mentally prepared for that.

“I always want to hold your hand,” Din says simply, as if it’s obvious. “I just never know when it's the right time. You get jumpy.”

“I do not,” Luke protests. Artoo beeps an agreement the same time Grogu flashes an image of Luke, skittish and flustered and—oh. He is jumpy around Din. Okay. Well. That’s not embarrassing. Hopefully Leia and Han will enjoy this prime time disaster because Luke is a mess.

“It’s alright, Luke,” Din reassures, rubbing soothing circles over Luke's thumb and, wow. Isn’t that something? “I like when you’re nervous.”

Before Luke can jump to defend himself because—uh, rude. Din finds enjoyment in Luke’s gay panic? That’s mean—Din is tugging Luke close to his side, pressed against his arm where Grogu can latch onto Luke as well from his buir’s shoulder bag.

“It makes me feel like I have nothing to be scared of."

“You’re scared of something?” Luke asks, incredulous. Din’s not scared of much, so this must be terrifying. “What are you scared of?”

Din’s quiet for a moment, but in the deafening, ever boisterous ruckus of the market, Luke can feel the frantic thrum of his heart in his palm. And it’s the loudest thing Luke’s ever heard.

“That my desire for more than what I’m allowed to have when it comes to you,” Din says, “Will one day consume me entirely.”

Stars. Luke didn’t know his body could feel like this. Happiness. Surprise. Disbelief. Emotions that he can’t even name let alone register how he’s experiencing them all at once. Luke didn’t know it’s possible for Din to feel them too either, and yet. It’s as clear in the Force as if Luke’s looking right at them. Dripping from Din like a cracked dam that’s moments away from bursting.

Din’s small, heartfelt confession is soon lost in the noise of the market, but its effect lingers.

Din wants more. He wants more than what he thinks he’s allowed to have. How much more, exactly? And is it as much as Luke wants? Artoo ramming into Luke’s calf breaks him out of his fleeting stupor and, eventually, Luke voices the first thing that comes to mind.

“Then I guess it will consume us both.”

The sharp crackle of Din’s modulator is as big an indicator as ever when Luke absolutely refuses to face him with his cheeks as red as Artoo says. He just stares ahead, focused on the crack of a flag flying high above a drink stand and hopes Din doesn’t notice the tremble in his hand. He does, of course, because Din notices everything about Luke just as much as Luke notices everything about him.

Din releases Luke's hand and slides the broad of his palm across Luke's waist, settling on his hip quick enough so Luke doesn’t miss the warmth of his touch. And Din stays there. Flexing his fingers over Luke’s robes and burning a mark through three layers of clothing. His grip is tight. Unyielding. Locked on. It’s the most secured Luke's felt in a long time.

“Yes,” Din agrees, stepping closer so they can walk in sync with not an inch of space between them. “I guess it will.”

And Luke, the ever level headed Jedi he’s been trained to be, is alright with that.

[lapushvibez]

Hot n' Cold

Summary: Reader is in the hospital sick af and eddie boy is sobbing internally bc he's dramatic

Warnings: mild angst bc it's edward / not proof read

"How're you feeling?"

Edward kept his voice low and smooth, careful not to startle you with any sudden noise since you've been sleeping on and off for most of the day.

You sigh at his concern. This pulls a frustrated expression from his pale face. "Y/N, you've got to understand your safety is everything to me. You need to tell me how you feel because I have no way of knowing. It's very.. irritating."

"I'm fine, Edward. I promise.. I'd feel even better if—"

"If what? Tell me. I'll do anything to help you feel healthy like before." Edward's soft yet deep gaze forced your stomach to swirl and twist with butterflies. You rely on touch to communicate what you want by grabbing his sleeved arm and tugging gently. You want him closer, close enough to feel his ice cold temperature. He only hesitates for a second before giving in. Within a minute you've got him seated next to you. He's the puppet, you're the master with the strings. Anyone could make this assumption.

"You're burning up, Y/N." Another agonizing sigh leaves his lips. You're tempted to lecture him about these common and overly sensitive reactions but you know he'd never let you win a conversation like that. How he sees himself as the worst safety hazard for you will unfortunately never change.

You don't feel the need to speak again. All you give in response is a lazy nod and closing your eyes with the intention of falling back asleep. Maybe the fever will break with the help of his touch.

~

You're awakened again by the annoying beeping of machines. Nurses knocking on the door. Loud chatter in the halls. The lack of his presence. For some reason you always wake up if he leaves. Part of you feels more and more empty as the seconds go by without him. Thankfully, only five minutes later, he comes back with a small collection of snacks and drinks specifically for you. He remembers all your favorites and least favourites— Edward, still to this day, cringes at the memory of him giving you a snack you hated since childhood. "I've brought you some fresh water and fruit snacks. Do you want to try eating again?" His voice beautiful as always, it never fails to make your heart skip a beat. He notices. Every single time.

Edward was a better nurse than the real ones. Extremely protective and ridiculously good at reading your body language to pin point specific symptoms and how to help them fade faster. The mixture of his ice cold skin with your feverish temps didn't go unnoticed. Edward selfishly enjoyed your natural heat while biting back every smile whenever you tried moving closer to cool off. Your comfort never improved because of the medication or fluids through IV. It came from him— the simple fact that he was there beside you. And you're positive that if he were able to read your mind, he'd probably have a higher chance of believing you genuinely think good of him.

[ornii]

Ya dun goofed. Now I'm invested in My Bitter Half and I will binge all of it and support it as long as you're willing.

My Better Bitter Half Part 3

Sibling Rival, Part 2

(Y/n) and Wednesday talk about their feelings.

Wednesday was inside her dorm, typing upon her typewriter to the utmost intent. She listens softly to “La Llorona” as she continues but eventually stops to speak to someone.

“You can stop your perverted staring.” She says, In the corner, (Y/n) is leaning against the wall, he walks over behind her.

“Well I would, but I can’t trust you to go ten feet without trying to escape. And I don’t have a tracking collar to put around your neck, so this is the only option.” You say, Wednesday stands and turns to face you, her arms folded.

“As Ive Said before you cannot stop me.”

“Oh I can, and I will. You have no other options Aki Hermana, and I detest the idea of my other half living as some puckish fugitive. So put you big girl garments on, and accept your fate.”

“If you think you can stop me, I implore you to try, you may be taller by a measly five inches but I excel in all things you fail in.”

“Listen Here—“

The siblings bicker until the bed creaks, catching their ears, the two stop and slowly turn to Wednesday’s bed.

“Did you hear that?” You ask.

“Of course I did.” Wednesday replies and the two slowly approach the bed, Wednesday grabs the edge and swiftly removes the cover, and they come across a hand, switches together and living without any other body part.

“Hello, Thing.” The twins say, thing is pinned to the desk as (Y/n) has a pair of sharp scissors in the other hand.

“Did you think my highly trained olfactory sense wouldn't pick up on the faint whiff of neroli and bergamot in your favorite hand lotion?” Wednesday says. You grip him tighter and smirk,

“I could do this all day. Surrender?” You say and he relents, you let go and he begins to frantically tap.

“Mother and Father sent you to spy on us, didn't they?” Wednesday said, listening to Thing disposition.

“Hm, it seems even I’m not above the watchful eye of mother and father.” You say, and Wednesday shakes her head.

“That they thought I wouldn't find out proves how much they underestimate me. Oh, Thing, you poor, naive appendage. My parents aren't worried about us. They're evil puppeteers who want to pull the strings even from afar. The way I see it, you have two options. Option one. I lock you in here for the rest of the semester, and you go slowly insane trying to claw your way out, ruining your nails and your smooth, supple skin, And we both know how vain you are.” Wednesday says.

“Option two.” You chime in, “You pledge your undying loyalty to us.” You say, Thing reluctantly bends his, finger to the twins.

“Good.” You say.

“Our first order of business is to escape this teenage purgatory.” Wednesday thinks.

“Our first order of business is to keep my dear dreadful sister within the confines of her prison.” You think.

Even when the Addams twins are on the same page, they still continue their deception upon even each other. Suddenly the door opens and a tall, beautiful woman steps out, Weems.

“Ah. Addams, it’s good I do not have to search for the other, come. Your therapist is awaiting.”

“Well dear sister, I must say goodbye.” You say, but Weems pipes up.

“You’re coming as well (Y/n).” She says, you jerk your head suddenly to her.

“Excuse me?” You ask.

“Yes, you’d mother wished for you both to attend, to work out your issues.”

“Issues? I have no issues.”

“That’s a lie.” Wednesday chimes in.

“I— if I’m lying then let god strike me down right now.” You say, suddenly they can hear thunder boom in the distance. Wednesday turns back to him coyly.

“It seems he has spoken.” She says, (Y/n) and Wednesday were driven to the therapists office. The two sit in separate chairs, Wednesday with her classic deadpanned demeanor, (Y/n) with arms folded, leg folded as well. The two sir across from a woman with slight dirty blonde hair, Dr Kinbott.

“I read the notes from your school counselors.” Kinbott says.

“Mrs. Bronstein. She had a nervous breakdown after our last session and had to take a six-month sabbatical.”

“How did you feel about that?” Kinbott asks Wednesday First.

“Vindicated. But someone who crochets for a hobby isn't a worthy adversary.” She responds.

“Adversary? I hope we can forge a relationship based on trust and mutual respect.”

You scoff at this.

“This isn’t some Kumbaya ritual.” You day:,

“This is a safe space, (Y/n). A sanctuary where we can discuss anything. What you're thinking, feeling, your views on the world, personal philosophy.”

“That's easy. I think that this is a waste of time.” Wednesdays says. “I see the world as a place that must be endured, and my personal philosophy is kill or be killed.”

“So, for instance, when someone bullies your brother, your response is to dump piranha in the pool. Or in your case (Y/n), when a few boys push your sister down, you burn their houses down.” Kinbott says to the twins.,

“You know the old saying, never bring a knife to a sword fight Unless it's concealed.” Wednesday said, Kinbott turns to (Y/n).

“(Y/n), you can understand why it’s bad to burn social bridges like this.”

“I don’t burn bridges, I demolish them.” You respond.

“Point is, you assaulted a boy, you’ve committed arson, and showed no remorse for your actions, That's why you're both here. He lost a testicle.”

“I did the world a favor. People like Dalton shouldn't procreate.”

“And children should know to keep their hands to themselves, common courtesy. Are done here?” You ask.

“We're not done yet. Therapy is a valuable tool to help you understand yourself, It can teach you new ways to deal with your emotions, it can also help mend bridges with your family.” Kinbott smiles at the twins.

“Why don’t we begin, with You (Y/n). How do you feel about your sister?”

“How do I feel? She’s smart, resourceful, and a genius. But she gets in her own way and is a stubborn black Mule when it comes to people giving her genuine and honest advice.” You say.

“That’s.. something.” Kinbott said, “Wednesday?”

Wednesday looks a bit uncomfortable, but opens her mouth.

“My brother is clever, intelligent and surprisingly deceptive. But his personal issues stem from his inferiority complex. Therefore he has some grandeur ideal to be some savior for me.”

“It’s not some grandeur ideal, you’re going to get yourself killed running away.”

“That’s my problem, not yours.”

“You are my sister, my problems are your problems.”

“It seems you don’t understand, I share nothing with you besides the blood we share.”

“You can’t accept the fact someone is looking out for you.”

“Why would I want a self indulgent Narcissist to help me?”

“Because the antisocial sociopath will get in her own way and get herself in trouble she can’t escape from.”

“Please, you two.” Kinbott said, let’s be more respectful of each other. It’s obvious you two have, issues with coach other and perhaps we can come to an understanding of love, let’s start with Wednesday, Why don't we dig into that?”

[onlycleverinmyhead]

I think that’s the moment Ra’s went from purely manipulating Tim, to being impressed by him. And not just because “Tim is smart”- all bats are smart, it’s because Tim used his intelligence to analyze a scene and form a battle plan within seconds. “Look behind his eyes, I suspect he’s already won”- Ra’s al Ghul. “Win the next fight, and the one after that, before you get there”- Tim drake. Tim had the whole battle planned out before it started. And Ra’s noticed it. He’s probably like “look at that little snake of a man” and then “oh shit, I let that snake touch my computers”

And then Tim blows up the league’s bases. I think that Ra’s let him into his system because he thought he had him, that Tim wouldn’t dare act against him or that he was in too deep to do so. That was the point, no? Get Tim to work for the league and trap him there. The white ghost told Tim he was working for Ra’s al Ghul now, and that there was no turning back in response to Tim telling him to leave the cradle. (Right before he revealed he rigged their generators to explode). so obviously no one was expecting him to turn on the league.

That made Ra’s angry, so he set out to hurt Tim. The plan itself isn’t hard to figure out- if WE is controlled by a puppet, Ra’s can be the one to pull its strings. Tim succeeded where other bats might have failed because he pushed his concern for innocent people to the side, got his friends to protect them instead of flying around the city trying to do that himself like Bruce would have, and focused on the bigger picture. Tim didn’t win because of his intelligence (again-ALL BATS ARE SMART), but because of how he used it. Because like Ra’s, Tim is cunning, sly, almost devious and while Batman is cold and calculating when needed, Tim can detach himself in a way Bruce can’t.

Also, can I point out that Ra’s saying Tim “passed all his tests” in the end is such a loser move? Like yeah? You planned for him to explode all your bases? Like, the WE thing probably was a test (of character, not intelligence), to see if Tim is different from other bats. But the base thing? Nah man, Ra’s lost to much that day for it to be on purpose. Ra’s underestimated Tim, got hit, and then pretended it was all part of his plan, loser.

[cornbake]

Percy and angst are always a great combo. Pardon me picking the easy route and using Orthax hes just too cool not to use. I don't remember the exact episode i referenced but just in case

Spoilers for Legends of Vox Machina Episodes 8-10

Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, violence and blood.

It's all gone to hell.

The Briarwoods had been handled yet Percy wanted more. Deliah was still alive and he wasn't going to stop until everyone on that barrel was dead.

The rest of Vox was either helping Keyleth or unsure how to help. Grog being the one standing and twiddling his thumbs.

You and Cassandra were standing in between Percy and his kill. Cassandra keeping the necromancer close, just in case either she or something else where to try anything. You were currently staring down a six barreled gun and into the white glassed goggles blocking the soft blue eyes of the man in front of you.

"Move."

"You know I can't do that..." you take a hold of his extended hand. "Percy, this has gone too far. I need you to take a step back and breath for me."

The strength in his grip loosens as you push his arm to the side.

"Look at me. Look me in the eyes..." you move to hold his head in your hands pulling carefully at the leather mask. The smoke wisping around your wrist in a feeble attempt to stop you.

The horror etched in his face make your heartbreak. You held his cheek in your hand silently telling all his worries away.

"You are not alone anymore, I will fix this. Or die trying."

The moment would have lasted longer, you wanted to make it last longer. Whatever entity had found its way into Percy soul had other plans. the smoke tickened its hold on his. The quick movement to come next left you tumbling over Delilah and Cassandra and on you back winded.

Taking a moment to breathe the sounds of Grog raging into a fight with the gunslinger.

"Someone has to stop him before he hurts himself."

Taking in a deep breath you hope back to your feet. The demon had possession of your dearest Percival. His words a mass of anger and venom at that in which he was aiming at. A large arm grabs you, roughly pulling you out of the way as bullets ring out in your direction.

You give your barbarian a quick thanks before you retreat to cover completely. You could hear the other talking only a few meters away from your own spot.

The shots keep firing off one after another with the spite screaming out with them. You needed to do something. Anything at this point. You had to find a way to react your nobleman.

The only way you new how was with either blade or word, and while blade might be the right call. You couldnt find it in your heart to harm your dearest Percival.

"Please don't kill me you white haired idiot...." you shuffled out of your hidden spot, hands empty and up to show him your unarmed. You could feel the gazes of your team around you.

"Percival...."

To him, your voice was an angelic choir. To him, your eyes were nothing less than orbs holding his world within them.

But he wasn't there. He was within the horrors of his own mind. A trick playing him for a fool. The monsters of his past engaging him, pushing him further from the truth. Further into smoke and sunder. To the claws of the crow that played with his strings as if he where a puppet.

You. It didn't like you. It knew what you meant to its toy. It knows what power you hold over its head. And it doesn't like that. To the demon, you where nothing less than a bug. A distraction to keep his puppet from its goal. A problem that needed to be fixed.

Orange eye burn into your soul as you try to desperately call out for your gunslinger. The demon glaring at your pleading eyes with a burning fire of hatred. Here you stand a problem once again. And here it will get rid of this problem once and for all. With a shrill cry from both it and Percy the blackened smoke coats the room around you. The cries of your team mates make you think you aren't the only one being dragged into the smoke.

You couldn't see. It felt like the world held it's breath in this moment.

Was it over?

You had a hard time comprehending everything that had happened in the short amount of time it occurred in.

Black smoke and burning gun power blocking you senses. An insistant piercing ring assaults your ears as the feet of Percival steps before you.

"You just couldn't stay out of the way..."

"Percival..."

"SILENCE, your words fall on deaf ears mortal. You try to steal my prize from me...."

You could just hear the doubled pitch voice mixed with your lover's. His expression showing nothing but hate. This is the demon, and he held control in this moment. The List is held out, pointed at you. The burning orange eyes with it's dark sclera zeroed in on you. "I will not allow you to take away EVERYTHING we worked towards."

"Percy doesn't want any part of this. Why would he want to hurt his friends, his family! Casandra, she was charmed, forced into her thinking they she did she didn't have a say-" You get cut off as the pistol rings out. He shot you, and while misfires might have grazed your arms or legs before, this one was aimed. It hit an intended mark. It took a moment before you crumbled, your leg giving out on you as the ball of metal tore through. You give a short cry as the wound stung but it's cut off by the demon kicking you to the ground to hold you down as the barrel of his List is pressed into your skin.

"Do you think I care of reason? No. I want what is provided from this pact. I care not what happens to the fodder." You stare up at him in fear as he drinks in your expression with an evil chuckle. "You are right to fear me... i am the holder of your pathetic live." "P-percy..... please.... hear me...." You close your eyes as you hear the demon's laughter pick up. You hand reaching out to softly stoke and hold the cheek of your beloved's face for at least one last time. This is about all I have the energy to finish rn. Let me know if you want a second parter to this! I can only hope to TRY and make one if you guys want!

[bbiemochi]

HII so can i maybe request rei sakuma and a reader who’s like mafuyu asahina from project sekai? i mean like a reader who like acts hapoy n stuff but mentally they don’t feel that way :3 sososososo sorry if it seems like this doesn’t make sense 😞

𝚒𝚍 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎 | rei sakuma x reader

[an]: I’M SO SORRY IF THIS TOOK LONG ToT literally goddamn, is my inbox filled with unfinished requests and i’m literally going to sob. anyways, yes, mafuyu our depressed emo child, i miss playing pjsekai tbh i quit a long time ago because i was lacking storage 🥹🥹 nonetheless, tysm for requesting! hope u like it <33

summary: rei knew how pressuring of being the gifted child really is. and he knew that ever since he spent more time with you.

pairing: rei sakuma x pressured gifted kid!fem!reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff at the end

***

IF THERE WERE A FEW things rei knew so well about his girlfriend, is that she was the most prettiest and wisest person he knew so far in his life. most boyfriends would think so, in fact from rei’s point of view—he had never been more in love than before. however, for as far as he can remember, there are these small things he takes note from your personality.

always at the top of your class, you had never once received a failing grade in either of your subjects, with repeatedly getting a 100 score on your tests and performance tasks, heck, you even got voted as the class representative. you were popular amongst not only the teachers, but with students as well because of your vast intelligence, and also with your looks. because of this, your parents decided to move you in one of the most prestigious private academies in all of japan, yumenosaki academy, where all dreams bloom. they had very high expectations for you, building your future by their own hands without your approval and pushing every bit of talent to learn down to your throat. you felt like a puppet being pulled by a string, two people laughing with the thought of their daughter being able to make their future possible covering their vision. this was ist from behind the curtain, before pulling it for others to see of how you looked alright, even if it was clear you were only pretending to be.

despite acting like an idiot with that persona of his that hid his true nature, rei was intelligent, and once an intelligent noticed the dots connecting, there was no turning back. how your eyes never shined like before after talking to someone who asked for advise, how your smile never matches the way your irises lit up when looking at somebody, and how you were always bombarded with other students to tutor them even if you were busy yourself. just with simple actions within the audience can be counted as a clue…since rei knew the feeling too well.

rei was only one of the few who had noticed.

“isn’t y/n-san so smart? she helped me almost score a perfect on my exams today!”

“gah, how i wish i were her! smart, pretty, always getting perfect scores, talk about lucky!”

maintaining a perfect image for yourself and your reputation in public. a perfect daughter anyone could ever ask for. even if that perfection couldn’t reach the emotional distress you’ve kept to yourself these past years that went on.

when rei first met you after you were switched in the producer course, everyone had liked you immediately. of course, this was because you were the ‘perfect’ producer anyone could ever ask for. even the first producer; anzu was asking from you from time to time for advise. everyone thinks: ‘oh that won’t be any trouble for y/n-san! she’s wise, anyways! she’ll know what to do!’ when rei would mention your name to ask if you could do extra work for his unit. it made him feel bad…wonders if you were actually doing just ok as they say you would be.

not long after, rei unexpectedly fell for you.

as quicker than the ice melts, it didn’t take long for you to notice his odd signals for romance and affection. even without the hints from hakaze and the other third years, it was quite obvious to everyone’s gazes that rei was indeed infatuated with you. you were used to people having crushes on you due to your reputation, you weren’t even sure how many confessions was given to you in a span of months—yet, you know how to handle this situation smoothly.

or not…

sir kunigi requested for you to take one last look at the training room for 2wink to see if the missing files were piled up in that room, however, according to hinata the files were nowhere to be seen, and it was dead end. the older aoi twin was in a small rush in order to catch up with his younger twin brother who was currently in a bad mood, probably about the canceled live announcement from the student council members.

because of it, it seems as you had no choice but to redo the piles of task printed out once again. kunigi was stern to tell you that those documents were important for the idols, and that losing them would become a big deal (in which it did). this was the first time you ever lost something important, your image of maintaining perfection became a slump of dough at that moment when kunigi insisted to let anzu take care of the problem instead. it made you feel disappointed at yourself, so you kept telling your teacher you didn’t want to add anzu more work on her table, that you could do it again and that it was alright.

“alright,” he sighs, “just make sure this time you won’t lose it. this is the first time i ever seen you lose your focus. apologies if the producer work is pressuring you, but you should be careful next time.”

“i-it’s fine, sir..! i’m getting used to it after all, only me and anzu-chan are the only available producers here at this course. i really am sorry for losing it…” you sent him your signature smile, eyes beaming on him as you hugged an empty folder right in your chest. kunigi smiles back, before watching you walk out of his office.

thank god all of that was over…

as you slowly opened your eyes, the light that once appeared from your irises dissolved into an abyss of emptiness, the smile that once lined up over your mouth was drawn into a thin line, expressing a nonchalant look. this was getting so tiring already, could they add more work to this mess? it was your parents who had suggested you to enroll in yumenosaki academy and choose the producer course for you, saying producer work for idols earn a whole lot of money and that it could help ‘support’ your family. as if they weren’t pressuring you enough. you didn’t dream to do this…in fact, you had no idea what your dream was.

not like it was your choice to decide at the first place.

the hallway was empty (thank god it was), you slowly walked back to the empty classroom you were currently staying at and doing your work there alone. the schedule in which you printed before (and went missing) was still saved in your laptop, and all was needed was to be inked out of the printer. you had to ask keito if he had more ink since this was all out, there were far too many files to document due to the low numbers of producers in your course. papers were lying messily beneath your desk, and your expression was still empty despite all this circulating problems being piled up over yourself. you were just used to it. not like this was getting any different from before.

‘i should ask over the student council if they have any spare ink for the printer…i need to get this task done before sunset…’ was what your thoughts said as your dark eyes looked over at the remaining documents displayed over your laptop screen. after this one you and anzu still had to plan for the upcoming idol festivals to be needed by tomorrow for new years. ahh…how tiring. however, this is how work should go. before you could head out the door in order to make your way towards the student council office, a familiar figure was already standing near the door frame, arms crossed and eyes gently closed when you turned around. this surprised you, of course.

“jesus christ, sakuma-san you scared me…” a pant escaped your lips in astonishment. fixing your posture, and once again giving him your signature smile, you spoke, “why are you still here? is there anything i can assist you with?” the politeness in your tone almost caught the undead leader off guard, however he keeps his stance. rei lets out a chuckle from this, “kuku, it is a specialty of mine as a vampire to scare humans. as such, little darling, is this what you’re looking for?” the male in front of you suddenly pulls out a paper from underneath his arm, showing it in front of your sight. it was the document that you and sir kunigi were looking for. a wide smile spreads across your face, hope signaling over your expression (for once).

thank god he found it.

“sakuma-san thank you so much! you’re a lifesaver…!” in a hurry did you ran towards his side, grabbing the paper from his hands and looking over at the printed file, making sure it was the original document you had printed an hour ago. it really was, and a wave of relief hits you. looking back at rei, you giggled happily, “thank you so much, b-but where did you find it?? i swore i checked every unit room…”

“it turns out yuta-kun had it the whole time. after the kids argued about something i wouldn’t dare to explain, yuta thought that the file he took was for the new rescheduling of 2wink’s live concert stadium. at first he planned to head over to the student council and ask tenshounin about why their live was canceled, but when he looked back at the file, turns out it was for another unit,” rei explains, smiling back at you. “he came to me looking for you, since the young lady was busy with trickstar at reimei academy at the moment, making arrangements with eden, he wanted the document handed over to you, little darling.”

“ah, how thoughtful of him. phew, at least i won’t be redoing the papers again…” you carefully placed the paper underneath a nearby folder along with the others, cleaning up your desk before turning back to rei. “thank you once again for bringing this over to me, it’s a real help, honest.” there was silence after that last reply, the atmosphere around the air grew awkward when rei didn’t reply for that whole minute. though you were really thankful he handed you over the missing documents, this kind of sheepish aura is making your legs all wobbly.

“w-well—

“this is the first time i have seen you smile for real, little darling.”

your head immediately perked up in astonishment. this is the first time he saw you smile for real? what in the world did he mean by that? has he seen through your hidden expressions among the idols? among the other teachers? friends? classmates? no, there was no way he could actually figure that out soon. you grew how to hide your feelings buried within you after all, you’re already a pro at this. smiling again with a faint laugh, you hugged the file tighter over your chest, “sakuma-san what do you mean by that? you really are an odd one,” ‘ok, this would probably set aside of whatever he’s thinking…this is my chance.’

you hurriedly walked aside your senior and prepared to head out towards the teacher’s office, when another of one of his sentences stopped you midway. “aren’t you feeling pressured?”

“…” that question made your eyes go dark. you looked at him again, this time without your signature smile, but a nonchalant look on your face. rei too looked back at you, however his expression seemed to be new to you, you’ve never seen him this serious before. “don’t you think you’re going overboard by doing what everyone expects you to do? don’t you have dreams yourself?”

“what would you know?”

your cold tone struck to him, yet he stands still. bingo, he got you where he wanted to. you’re quick to show your emotions when revealed. the once eyes that filled with hope and adorable sparkles in the world’s view, now turned into an empty shade of nothing. emotionless e/c eyes meet with his ruby pupils. “you’re just an idol. a weird chuuni vampire who knows nothing but sing and dance in front of the audience like a satisfaction tool. tell me, do you have dreams, sakuma?”

he grins, “of course i do. making my fans fill with smiles is my dream. i want the world to know that me and my unit can sing for them.” his answer was obvious, figures. you didn’t shift away from him for a moment, you continued to speak, honestly this time. “words of a true idol, i’ll give you that. but even so, what would you know of how i should maintain my image for everyone and my mother?”

“so you’re finally saying that you’re only doing this because your mother and everyone expects big of you?”

another wave of silence hit. you clenched your fists in annoyance. you had let your guard down…this was rei’s intention was it? he knew nothing, why would he? he’s just an idol and the leader of one of the most famous units in the academy—nothing more. why would he care? for a producer like you, he shouldn’t really be getting too close with you. that’s a rule. you shouldn’t let your blood boil because this guy is backing you up in a corner with no escape, he’s just an idol.

“y/n, you’re bring pressured by peers, carried by your parents’ expectations…being controlled of your own future…is this all ordinary for you?” no reply. your eyes were locked down on the school tiles, head empty as rei continuously spoke to you more. like shredding open a sealed cloth, rei knew the exact words to say. “little darling…”

“don’t come close..”

he ignores your plea, whilst walking even closer. you backed away, “i said don’t come closer, you know nothing of what…i’ve…” finger intertwining with yours, a soft to the touch emotion mixed with questionable feelings that whirled in the insides of your stomach, sort of like butterflies trying to make their escape from a sealed flower that’s ready to bloom. his eyes, dark blood eyes that dug holes into yours, you swore if you stared at them any longer your legs would begin to feel weak. “what…what are you…?” your voice couldn’t spit out a strong sentence unlike before, it came out as faint…and a little hoarse.

the space between you both closes…with your head being hugged between his arms, creating warmth in the atmosphere everywhere over your body. it radiates like a first summer burst, feelings of guilt, sadness and pressure drenched onto your skin. he had caught you…rei, had caught you. this type of affection…when was the last time you had felt it from a warm hug of a loving parent? it’s…incredible. such a great feeling.

it’s making you…a bit emotional. it pulls the rope even more when rei began stroking your hair, gently, soft hums and praises could be heard between the gusts of wind exiting out from the opened school windows. tears soon pricked beneath your eyelids, blurring your vision…as you slowly sobbed into rei’s chest. this was one of the things you promised to yourself; never breakdown in front of someone, or else you’d be burdening your feelings to them. it was better to keep them hidden no matter what. however, it seems like rei won this time when he manages to glove his way into your grey heart.

“shh…shh…it’s ok, little darling. you’re safe here…i’m here…”

“i-i’m so sorry…”

“it’s alright…”

“i didn’t mean to…”

“it’s ok, you’re ok…”

“don’t leave me…”

“hm?”

“don’t leave me all…alone…”

“hush…i won’t…i’m here…i love you..”

***

a/n: I MEANT TO POST THIS ON CHRISTMAS BUT OH WELL. HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE ! <33 💗💗🎄